


despite everything

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Series: mpreg rewrites - season 1 [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Family Friend, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mpreg, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: He should have seen Paul waiting for him. Should have blocked the punch that connected firmly with his jaw, throwing him off balance and disorienting him enough for Paul to maneuver him exactly where he wanted him. Should have never,never, let the other man get the upper hand and trap him in that turnstile.As the bars slam against his back and force him up against the metal guards in front of him, he has a moment of sheer panic as he feels the cool metal digging into his belly, violating the sanctity of his child's home.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: mpreg rewrites - season 1 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799755
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	despite everything

**Author's Note:**

> None of the works in this series are related to one another, but they will all feature Malcolm in various stages of being pregnant.
> 
> -
> 
> Thanks to the Goblins for encouraging this series (and encouraging me)

"Paul?" Malcolm calls out as he follows the man down the service tunnel, ignoring the voice at the back of his head that's screaming at him to turn back, to wait for Gil. But he's terrified that if he doesn't catch up to the man right now, he'll lose this lead forever. And if the stranger he's currently following is really Paul Lazar, this might be his only chance to get answers about the Girl in the Box.

He knows that Gil is likely on his way already, that it may only be a matter of minutes until he arrives, but it's not a gamble that Malcolm's willing to take. 

When he'd been sitting outside the precinct and saw the man across the street, it had taken a few seconds to recognize him as the same man from the church. As soon as he made the connection and realized that the man was probably Paul, he'd texted Gil to tell him what was happening. He let him know which direction he was going as he took off from the precinct steps, and then sent one last text just before entering the tunnels, suspecting service would be poor once he entered. A quick glance at his phone, with the 'no signal' warning blinking up at him as he turned the first corner into the looming concrete tunnels, confirmed that suspicion. 

It's a new concept to Malcolm, but he wasn't texting Gil as his Lieutenant (as a consultant, Malcolm wasn't _technically_ under Gil's command) but as his husband, having finally learned that Gil's concern for his safety was a non-negotiable facet of their relationship. And if it had been any other case, he would have followed at a distance. Would've kept an eye on the suspect until backup arrived, because that's what Gil would want him to do. But this isn't just 'any other case', and it hits too close to home to risk this man getting away.

And so, though he's well aware he shouldn't, especially now, he jogs deeper into the tunnels. He knows Gil's going to be angry, and in the back of his mind, he's already planning an elaborate apology dinner at that tiny hole in the wall place that Gil loves so much but rarely has a chance to get to. He's distracted, thinking about calling to make a reservation, thinking about catching Paul, thinking about _finally_ getting answers that could fill in the expansive gaps in his memory. He's so preoccupied as he approaches the turnstile, that he forgets to clear the area before he pushes his way though. 

In the blink of an eye, he goes from chasing a serial killer, to being held at the mercy of one. His heart stutters painfully in his chest as he realizes that his moment of distraction has endangered the life of his unborn child, and a wave of anger at his own foolishness floods through his system.

He should have seen Paul waiting for him. Should have blocked the punch that connected firmly with his jaw, throwing him off balance and disorienting him enough for Paul to maneuver him exactly where he wanted him. Should have never, _never_ , let the other man get the upper hand and trap him in that turnstile.

As the bars slam against his back and force him up against the metal guards in front of him, he has a moment of sheer panic as he feels the cool metal digging into his belly, violating the sanctity of his child's home.

He's just barely into his second trimester, only just starting to show, but that change in his body makes him uncomfortably aware of how his stomach is being compressed between the turnstile bars. It doesn't matter that he can barely breathe or that he can feel his ribs grinding and threatening to break under the strain. All that matters is that his child is in danger.

“Let's see, little Malcolm,” Paul growls, his face close enough to Malcolm’s that, even through the separation of the thick bands of metal, Malcolm can smell the stale coffee on his breath. It makes his stomach rebel and attempt to crawl out through his throat. The baby does _not_ enjoy the smell or taste of coffee. It’s actually how he realized he was pregnant in the first place. He has to switch to breathing through his mouth as Paul asks, "Will they come for you?"

Malcolm has to think fast, his profiler's brain running through a thousand scenarios and outcomes in a matter of seconds as he tries to determine the best course of action to get his child out safely. There's a slim chance that if he tells Paul that backup (in the form of his husband, if not the entire NYPD) is coming, that Paul will leave to avoid being captured. His obvious instability, however, leads Malcolm to believe that admitting he called for help will end with Paul grinding him to death where he stands.

"Nobody's coming," he grunts. It's a calculated risk. "I'm here alone."

That's entirely untrue, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to let Paul know about his child. Giving the man more leverage than he already has is completely out of the question. There's no way to be certain exactly how long Paul has been following him, but even if he's been watching Malcolm since their encounter at the junkyard, which is likely, there’s a good possibility that he doesn’t know about the baby. Malcolm intends to keep it that way.

The pregnancy is high risk, so they decided to keep it under wraps until they were past the dangers of the first trimester. With all the medications Malcolm was on, it was a miracle he conceived in the first place. Then there was the added stress on his body of weaning off the drugs that weren’t safe for their child, which was a delicate balance of making sure that Malcolm stayed healthy while keeping the baby safe. That, added to his atrocious eating and sleeping habits — which Gil has been trying his damndest to remedy, through bribery and threats and pleading and an overwhelming amount of love — means that he and Gil are approaching things very cautiously. They didn’t tell _anyone_ they were expecting until he reached his second trimester less than two weeks ago, and even then it was only to tell Jessica and Ainsley (who were understandably shocked, but also genuinely happy in a way Malcolm's not sure he's seen in either of them before), and Gil’s sister in Seattle (who was so excited, she threatened to fly out immediately). Which means that Paul likely has no idea that he's currently endangering two lives.

"Why did you follow without calling your friends?" Paul asks, pulling Malcolm from where he's mentally cataloguing his time since the junkyard to try and determine if he'd done anything to give away his pregnancy.

"I didn't have time," Malcolm says absently. 

Time.

It's honestly not something he's ever put much stock in. For so long, he didn't care whether he lived or died, so time truly meant nothing to him. 

But then there was Gil. Who showed him what it meant to love someone and to be loved in return. Who gave him a reason to care about whether or not he saw tomorrow. Who gave him the child that's growing inside of him. 

The child that's currently being threatened by a deranged serial killer on a mission from God. Malcolm shifts his body as much as he can in the tight space, angling his hips so that they take the brunt of the impact, rather than it falling on his stomach. He prays that it will keep the baby safe until Gil gets there.

"Liar," Paul says, but he sounds almost amused, rather than angry. "Why?"

Malcolm hesitates, trying to decide if he should tell the truth or a carefully crafted lie that plays to what Paul wants to hear. In the end, he decides that he landed himself in this position to get answers, so he may as well try to find out what happened on that night 20 years ago. The night that destroyed so many lives.

"Because I want answers." He's on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by fear for his baby, by the crushing pain radiating through his body, by the flood of fragmented memories that are crashing over him like a tidal wave.

Much of his conversation with Paul is done on autopilot after that, providing vague answers to Paul's questions as to how he discovered his last victim, all the while focusing on keeping his stomach as far from the bars as he can manage. Though he tries not to, his eyes keep flitting to the end of the tunnel, hoping to see his husband's face, praying that he arrives in time.

It's not until Paul shouts, "How did you know?!" while wrenching on the metal, grinding the bars against Malcolm's bones so forcefully that he hears a sickening crunching noise at his ribs, that Malcolm's full attention snaps back to Paul. 

"Because we're the same!" he shouts with the last of his air, as the truth finally collides with what Paul is waiting to hear. It takes a moment — an endless moment where Malcolm can't suck any air into his compacted lungs — before Paul eases his grip and Malcolm is able to draw in a rasping breath. "My dad and I, he-he told me all he knew about murder. That's how I know how you think." It terrifies him. That he might possess the mind of a killer is a looming shadow that's been following him since he was just a boy. Saying it aloud somehow makes it more real, and the pain in his chest this time has nothing to do with the turnstile that's milling his ribs into a fine powder. For the first time in a very, very long time, he admits what he's spent 20 years running from, "I'm my father's son."

Paul's pleased confirmation that it's in his blood, that there's hope for him yet, is his worst fear confirmed. The rest of their conversation is spent in the hazy slow-motion of shock, his mouth moving without thought, independent from his mind. He's trapped in his head, his brain on an infinite loop of the Girl in the Box, his father being led away the night of his arrest, and visions of all the ways he's bound to fail the child growing inside of him. 

He feels Paul slip something in his pocket just as Gil's worried shout comes bouncing down the concrete corridors. 

"Bright?!" 

He's never been so happy to hear his husband's voice.

Paul's disappointed grunt puffs against his ear and suddenly the turnstile is crushing him with fatal force. The certainty that Paul has decided to kill him after all, isn't met with snippets of his life flashing before his eyes, like he would have expected. It's met with an all-encompassing sadness that suffuses every atom of his being.

Sadness that he won't have the chance to grow old with Gil. That they wasted so much time that could have been spent in each other's arms. That Gil is going to be the one to find his body, and will spend the rest of his life hating himself for being too late.

But more than that is the sadness that he'll never get to meet his baby and hold her in his arms. That she'll never get to see the world or meet her papa, who would have loved her like she was the most precious gift he'd ever received. That she'll never grow into the beautiful woman that Malcolm knows she would have been; she's Gil's daughter, after all.

Much to his surprise — and overwhelming relief — the pressure abates after only a few seconds, the bars that were caging him in disappearing from behind him with a suddenness that sends him plunging to the floor, too weak to hold himself up without the support of the metal. Sprawled on the floor, cradling his stomach, all he can manage to do is raise his head and watch Paul saunter away without a care in the world.

He drops his head to the cold concrete and lets his eyes slip closed, paying no attention to the puddles on the floor as they saturate his suit and seep into his socks. The adrenaline that flooded his system when Paul had him trapped and at his mercy is rapidly vacating his bloodstream to congeal in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and nauseated, with a ringing in his ears that almost drowns out the sound of footsteps racing towards him, growing louder with every footfall. 

"Malcolm!" Gil shouts, close enough now that it's not just reverberations of his voice floating down the tunnel. Malcolm lifts his head in time to see Gil barreling through the turnstile, gun raised as soon as he's cleared the tiny space.

There's a pang of regret knotting inside his chest as he watches Gil quickly clear the area, thinking that he could've avoided all of this if he'd just done the same. He tries to file it away as a 'lessons learned' moment — there have been plenty of those throughout his life — as he pushes himself up with a groan. He tenderly shifts himself over to sit with his back against the wall, holding himself stiffly as the deep ache of the movement spreads through his body. It's harder to move on from this lesson than most of the others, though, because it wasn't just himself that he put in danger this time.

In a matter of seconds, Gil has deemed the scene safe and drops down to one knee in front of him, worry creasing his features and panic shining clear in his eyes. "Hey, kid. You okay?" 

The warm hand that wraps around the back of Malcolm's neck instantly drains the tension from his body and he slumps forward into Gil's embrace, allowing a few tears slip by unchecked while he soaks in Gil's strength and lets the feeling of safety wash over him.

Gil holds him gently for a few seconds, but is soon pulling him back with firm hands on his shoulders, eyes raking over his body and landing on his belly as he asks, "Are you hurt? Either of you?" 

Malcolm knows Gil well enough by now to recognize the kaleidoscopic play of emotions twisting his face, fear and anger bleeding into love and guilt. He can feel the man's innate need to protect what is his, and he knows that Gil is already beating himself up for not being there to keep Malcolm and the baby safe.

"A little bruised, but I think we're both okay," he assures his husband, instinctively dropping his hand to his stomach. 

Gil's large hand moves to cover his where it rests on the tiny swell, his eyes shimmering in the low light of the tunnel. Blowing out a calming breath, Gil asks, "What happened?"

Malcolm fills him in as factually as he can manage, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep his own emotions from influencing Gil's. He gives a detailed account of his encounter with Paul Lazar, omitting only the admission that he's more like his father than he ever cared to admit. He'll need to unpack that at some point, alone at first and later with Gil, but now is not that time.

Now that Gil is no longer terrified for the safety of his family, he lets the fear-turned-anger take center stage, asking, "What the hell were you thinking, Bright? You can't just take off on your own after a killer. You have a team to back you up now." The exasperation rolling off of him is almost a tangible presence in the enclosed space. "Three simple words. I want you to repeat them after me: wait for backup."

Gil's right, of course. He never should have gone after Paul alone, he knows that, but he needs to at least try to explain why he did something so reckless and foolish. "I didn't think that there was—"

"This isn't rhetorical, Bright," Gil interrupts, clearly unwilling to accept whatever excuse Malcolm was cooking up. Which is fair, Malcolm decides, since Gil currently has no control over what happens to his baby. "I actually want to hear you say the words out loud. Wait…" 

"Wait for backup," Malcolm repeats, conceding to his husband. He has an awful lot of apologizing to do after this, and he's already preparing himself for a lengthy discussion about whether or not he should be doing any field work for the remainder of his pregnancy. For now, he's willing to agree that he made a poor choice. "I'll admit it was somewhat ill-advised."

"To run into a dark tunnel alone and let him pop you like bubble wrap?" Gil huffs, but Malcolm can see the fight draining out of him as he speaks. There's an exhausted edge to his voice as he breathes out, "Yeah, I'd say so."

Malcolm brings a hand up to cup Gil's face and leans in to kiss his husband, the soft press of their lips acting as a confirmation of safety. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, pulling back after a moment. "It won't happen again."

Closing his eyes, Gil blows out a shaky breath and takes a moment to compose himself. Looking at Gil like this — seeing him scared in a way that he hasn't seen since Jackie's final days — Malcolm vows to himself that he'll never be the cause of that look on Gil's face ever again.

"Okay, kid," Gil finally says, pulling back and putting some distance between them. "I'm just glad you're safe. You scared the hell out of me, you know." This time it _is_ rhetorical, but Malcolm leans in and kisses him again, just to reassure him that he's truly alright, his heart lightening as he feels Gil's lips pull into a small smile. "Let's get you to the hospital and make sure you're both okay. We can discuss what to do about Lazar on the way."

Malcolm won't argue, not this time. He's just as anxious as Gil is to make sure the baby is healthy. He's also aware that he needs a once over, himself, even if he's been downplaying just how much pain he's in. He's fairly certain he has some bruised ribs to contend with — it's hardly the first time he's had to suffer through _that_ wearisome healing process — but he needs to know that none of his injuries will affect the baby. 

He lets Gil help him to his feet, making a valiant effort to bite back the groan that tries to escape at the motion, but he can tell from the crease between Gil's eyebrows that he didn't quite succeed.

"You know," Gil wraps an arm lightly around Malcolm's shoulders as he places his hand on his stomach once again. "I'm worried he's going to recognize your groans of pain before he recognizes your voice if this keeps up." 

Malcolm finally relaxes as Gil tries to lighten the mood, letting him know that, despite everything, they'll be just fine.

" _She_ recognizes my voice just fine, thank you very much," Malcolm teases back, their ongoing disagreement about Baby Arroyo's gender filling the tunnels as they slowly make their way back outside, ready to hunt down their killer, together.


End file.
